For Crown and Country
by The Demon Ledger
Summary: The Princess, Katniss Everdeen, Daughter of Queen Emily Everdeen, is betrothed to marry Lord Gale Hawthorne, and has been for fourteen years. When she meets Peeta Mellark, replacement artist hired to paint a portrait of Katniss before her wedding, she doesn't know what to think. His blue eyes are like vast oceans; she would like to fall into them and escape.
1. Chapter 1: Make Do

_A/N: It's been a while since I've uploaded anything. Here's a chapter of something to let you know: I've moved to Archive of Our Own! You can find me there under the same name: thedemonledger , and I'll be posting all or a lot of the same stuff. Please catch me on that flipside. -B_

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Horns were the first sound Katniss heard all day aside from the rattling and rumbling of her carriage. Horses whinnied in dismay at the loud, brassy noise - as they stomped and rallied, the cart swayed back and forth in its stopped position. The midday sun was occluded by treacherous rain clouds which threatened to burst forth and douse her party with their seething brood. It seemed the weather was unaware of its impertinence; today was Katniss' eighteenth birthday, though of course, the celebration planned for the day was not in regards to that. Rather, today was the official declaration of her betrothal, and in two weeks time, she would be married to Lord Gale Hawthorne II of Bergenon. Her home of Panem was a small spot of land locked neatly against the coast by other, far more auspicious countries. Celebrations such as this were monumental occasions. Clouds, and the rain that fell from them, had no business rearing their lamentable bodies against what should have been her bluest skies. The door to her carriage swung open, revealing the castle in Bergenon, where she would spend the next two weeks celebrating a fourteen year engagement. Her feelings of ill disguised petulance bubbled just beneath the surface of her well practiced smile as she accepted her footman's helping hand and descend the stairs from her coach.

"The Princess, Katniss!" called a voice to her left. Those people who lined the cobbled path in front of her bowed, knelt, and curtsied until she had passed.

"The Lady Primrose!" the same voice bellowed; Katniss glanced over her shoulder to see Prim exiting gracefully, and smirked to herself. If only their roles were reversed; Primrose would make a far better princess than Katniss. Her sister shimmered in the light of the court, full of the youthful grace that Katniss felt she herself so obviously lacked. Even as she straightened her posture and clasped her hands demurely in front of her sweeping skirt, it felt wrong. As if every fibre of her being was straining against this one task set in between her and rest. _God, I hope it rains. _She thought to herself, dismissing her earlier, childish annoyances at the weather.

Her mother waited just inside the main gate. Katniss curtsied and bowed her head as she knew was proper. Her long, full gown hid the shaking of her knees as she waited for her mother's hand upon her shoulder. It came, instead, to her chin, and guided her space to look upwards.

"My beautiful princess," said her mother, eyes soft. "Stand." Katniss did as she was told, standing just to the side of her mother, who wound her fingers through Katniss' trembling ones. Her mother leaned towards her, turning her head downwards to whisper into Katniss' ear. "Are you nervous to see your betrothed? It is not as though he has not spent time in your company before."

"No, mama," replied Katniss faintly. "Simply hoping against the rain." The queen nodded slightly at this, squeezed her daughters fingers, and released her. Prim was curtseying before them. Their mother touched a hand briefly to her shoulder and brushed past them both.

"The queen," said Prim politely, weaving one arm through her sisters and falling into step beside her. "Seems to keep your highness, the Princess in her favor today."

Katniss appraised her sister before responding, glancing swiftly between her and their mothers disappearing form in front of them. "Perhaps," she speculated, tone light. "But perhaps if you were to be married in two weeks time, you would also see the _very," _she stressed the word with a pressured squeeze of her sisters wrist, "faint light of Her Majesty's love as well."

Prim laughed, a tinkling noise that set Katniss more at ease than any generic gesture from their mother. "Perhaps indeed, dear sister. " They continued forward through the castle grounds, skirts rustling. "Do you think I will ever be married, as you are?" asked Prim in an undertone. Katniss nodded slowly.

"You do not have the duty of bringing an heir to our throne," Katniss whispered, "as I do. But I'm sure our mother will find a man to wed you to."

"If only to empty my estate for her own," Prim reasoned. Katniss laughed now, a lower sound than that of her sisters. A drop of water hit her face, and she looked up, squinting at the dark grey clouds.

"The rain is upon us," said Katniss, squeezing her sisters hand before releasing her arm. "We would do best not to dally, your grace."

Another blast of horns guided them into the castle, the yellow light of flickering torches cast mutable shadows over them. The rain came down in sheets moments after they both made it through the wide double doors. Katniss heard one of her ladies shriek in surprise; soon the rain was creating vast and opaque waves of rain that swept through the grounds with the wind. It soaked their party through, who had followed the sisters at a respectful pace and were now running to get under cover. Katniss ushered them in, placing one hand on her maid, Madge, who's hair stuck to her forehead and neck where it had come out of her perfectly pinned updo.

"Is everyone as wet as you are?" asked Katniss. Madge nodded.

"If not worse, my lady." She looked out the front doors, away from the princess, towards the girls still running into the castle. She wore the standard that all Katniss' ladies-in-waiting wore: dresses whose colors matched those of her own. Today, blue of varying shades, all darker than her own, and a navy cape buttoned at the throat. Her hair had been pinned away from her face and neck; this gave Madge a doeish look. All the girls had different shades of blue ribbon running through their hair, denoting position within her party. Madge's ribbon was almost black, so navy was its hue.

"Please escort everyone to change their skirts and cloaks. Take down your hair until it's time to get ready," said Katniss firmly, squeezing Madge's shoulder. Her lady nodded and ushered the other girls away as Katniss turned back to her sister. "I am hopeful your quarters are near to mine."

"As am I, dear sister," replied Prim with a smile. "If they are, perhaps I can steal your chambermaid, as mine seem to grow more useless by the day." They both laughed.

Quick footsteps from behind had hand Katniss turning. A man stopped in front of her and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness," he said, kissing the ring on her proffered right hand.

"Sir Thomas," she replied with a smile. "Primrose, this is Sir Thomas Cobb, of Yon." Prim curtsied gently as he bowed deeply to her.

"Your Highness may just call me Thom, if you wish." Thom stood, offering his arm to Katniss. "I've been sent by Lord Hawthorne and Her Majesty, the Queen to escort you to your chambers." Katniss looped her arm delicately over his and smiled back at Prim.

The castle seemed to Katniss a great deal smaller than how she had remembered it to be in her yearth. Then again, she had been a great deal smaller herself as well. Free reign hadn't seemed like such a luxury then, either; though now Katniss doubted whether she'd ever had such a thing, or rather if her spatial confinement has been limited slowly over the years. _Like a water brought up to boil, _she thought blithely. Any child of hers would have to be brought up differently. She would insist on it.

"So, Thom," said Katniss, breaking the silence between the trio as they made their way up yet another flight of stairs, "how are you wife and child?"

"They are very well, madame," replied Thom with a smile.

"Do you remember her, Primrose?" asked Katniss over he shoulder. "She was one of mother's ladies. Forgive my rudeness but I've forgotten her name."

"Dahlia, Your Majesty. But you may have known her by Delly," Thom reminded her patiently.  
"Quite right- oh," simpered Katnissm pulling a smile onto her previously blank countinenance. "And the sex of your child?"

"A boy, ma'am," he replied warmly. "Name Charles, after my father." Katniss' smile deepened and she patted his hand. He stopped, moving from her grasp to gesture her towards a large set of double doors. He bowed again. "It has been an honor, Princess." Katniss' curtsies slightly and put one hand on the handle to the door.

"Your Highness," said Thom as he straightened, "your sister's room is immediately to your left." Katniss nodded.

"Show her, if you will. And who should I elect to notify my mother when we are dressed?"

"I shall have some of your ladies within to assist you posthaste." Thom stepped lightly away from her, one arm extended towards her sister. The princess pushed open the door to her quarters. She had grown used to overly elaborate rooms - so much to the point that they bored her. Her four poster bed sat squarely in the heart of the room, a looming requisite pushed against the far wall. It was made up with silk sheets and a downy comforter embroidered with no small amount of gold thread. Pillows of all sorts and shapes sat against the headboard, too many for her to count. Exhausted from her ride and the requirements of conversing as a princess, Katniss moved to the large bed and sat lightly on the edge. The balls of her feet still pressed against the oak flooring, and one hand rested on the bedpost beside her. She reached up with her free hand to the pins in her long dark hair, removing them and letting it fall in soft waves around her face.

A light knock came from her door.

"Come in," she said. Madge entered, followed by a fox-faced, red-headed girl whom Katniss did not yet know the name of. They both curtsied lightly, then took their usual places beside the bed. Katniss took as deep a breath as she could against her stays and stood. "I must change from my travelling clothes," she said, keeping on hand on the banister. She pressed the other to her stomach. "I understand my dresses were sent ahead."

"Yes, my lady," said the fox-faced girl. Madge came around the bed and stood in front of Katniss, already beginning to undo the hooks that gathered the front of her gown.

"Cath," she said. "Will you fetch a pitcher of water to wash the lady's face with?" The fox-faced girl - whom Katniss now knew to be named Catherine - nodded and hurried from the room. Madge pulled the light yellow gown off Katniss shoulders and draped it gently across the bed. "Would you prefer the green or blue gown, my lady? I see no reason to remove your stays and petticoats."

Katniss grimace. "I should like to rest a while," she replied, removing her silk kerchief by pulling it from beneath her bodice.

"Perhaps not just now my lady," replied Madge with a tentative smile as she began to unlace Katniss' skirt. Catherine entered again with a large porcelain pitcher clasped in her hand.  
"I'll collect your dress while you wash." Madge moved around the back of Katniss, to remove the skirt fully and drape it gently across the bedspread.

"Yes, of course," Katniss paused, "well, if we must now, the green, as that is the one with the shorter sleeves." Katniss leaned down, allowing Madge to pull the skirt off over her head. Her lady nodded and removed the few remaining hair pins from her dark brown hair.

"Would my lady prefer to wear no farthingale tonight?" asked Madge with a knowing style?

"If you must require me to wear three petticoats to fill out that skirt, I should rather do that by far," Katniss replied. Katniss moved to the table where Catherine stood beside a bowl of water. The bowl was beautiful - another piece of porcelain painted a deep blue. She cupped the cold water and brought it to her face. It shocked her skin but she did it again, hoping to revitalize herself from the long carriage journey. Still bent over the bowl, she accepted a linen cloth from Catherine and patted her face dry with it.

"My lady," said Madge quietly, "I require your involvement." Katniss sighed, but bit the inside of her cheek and forced a smile.

Elsewhere in the castle, Gale Hawthorne was pacing his quarters, awaiting audience with the queen. There was a hard rap on his door that made him jump a little, breaking him from his concentrated memorization of how he wanted to beseech Her Majesty.

"Enter," he said impatiently, pausing only to see who it was. Thom entered, bowing hastily before shutting the door behind him. "Are the preparations ready?" asked Gale, resuming his pacing.

"Yes, my-"

"And the queen?"

"Well, you see, sir -"

"Yes?" Gale cut across him, and his tone was harsh, unyielding in its vitriol.

"She does not which to take audience with you at this time, my lord." Thom bowed his head, avoiding Gale's eyes, which flashed cruelly. The smaller man took a breath. "She says she is tired from her journey and will see you in only two hours for the festivities tonight, but wishes to remain undisturbed until then." Gales face was set in a discordant sneer, and he tuc ked hi thrumbs into the tied waste of his breeches, then reached up to straight hi black jerkin's collar.

"Leave me," gale replied with a wave of his hand. As soon as Thom was gone from the room, Gale pulled from his pocket an ornately carved wooden box. This held Katniss' betrothal ring; it had been his mothers, and her mothers before her. An old tradition - a family heirloom. He needed to seek council with the queen.

"Your Eminence," called Gale, hurrying to catch the white-haired cardinal before he entered his private chambers. "I was hoping to have a word with you, in regards to the queen."

"My lord," the cardinal replied. He bowed, then opened the door to his chambers, allowing Gale inside. "What do you wish to commune with me?"

"I beseech you to find me audience with Her Majesty before this evening's gallantries," Gale said, crossing his arms over his chest as the old man took his seat across from him. "In regards to my engagement with the princes."

"You are aware I am only here to oversee the wedding which - I hope = will be done in two weeks? I am not Her Majesty's advisor," said the cardinal, shuffling he parchments in front of him.

"I am aware," Gale said, teeth gritted. "But I also know the queen takes your opinion in high regard." The cardinal paused halfway to putting on his glasses, lifting his eyes without lifting his head.

"I shall see what I can do. Now if Your Grace has no further issues, I should wish to return to my correspondence and have you summoned to Her Majesty's chambers should she allow it." Gale nodded and stalked from the room, chewing his lip as he went.

He didn't return to his chambers. The over decorated room gave gale the feeling of being trapped inside a large play chest. No, he couldn't stand to be within that room longer than what was absolutely necessary. He ventured instead down the long hall he knew held the room of his betrothed. He rapped lightly, almost tentatively on her door.

"Enter," came her commanding tone. He opened the door slowly, and edged in. She was still wearing only her underdress, and his eyes scanned her form as he made his measured way into a deep bow.

"Your Highness," said Gale, attempting to keep the laughter from his voice.

"Lord Hawthorne," Katniss said. There was a rustling of skirts. Gale's back was starting to ache. "Leave me, girls." One of her chambermaids hurried from the room; the other whispered in a low tone, but he couldn't make out her words. Katniss huffed impatiently. "Go check on my sister. Her ladies are not so competent as you." There were more skirts rustling and Katniss' hand appeared before him as the other woman disappeared from the bedchamber. The hand Katniss offered did not hold the signet ring so telling of her position as princess, but was bare. Gale glanced up at her as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. "My lord knows he is not meant to be in my chambers, yes?" She squeezed his hand. "Oh, please stand."

Gale stood, a smirk etched onto his face. "How are you, Catnip?" Katniss pressed forward, winding her skinny arms around his taut frame. She shook her head. They stood very still for a moment, one of his hands smoothing down her hair, the other smoothing slow, steady circles into her back.

"Promise me one thing," Katniss said. Gale grunted in affirmation, stepping back from her. "When we are married, cease calling me by your peevish childhood nickname for me."

"Of course, Your Highness," Gale said, reaching one hand up to trail down her cheek, "but until that day-"

"Which is only but two weeks away," Katniss reminded.

"Two weeks in my castle," Gale goaded. Katniss smiled and pressed her cheek into his hand. "With me around every corner."

"Ah yes," said Katniss, closing her eyes against the cloying smile that threatened to overtake her. "Two weeks of watching you try secretly to sneak my ladies from my chamber to yours."

"Your Highness has me wrong," Gale frowned, hand moving to grip behind her neck. "I am loyal only to you."

Katniss reached one hand up and pulled his arm gently from her. "Loyalty is nothing to do with it, my lord." Katniss opened her eyes finally to search Gale's face. It was impassive, though it edged towards teasing. She sighed.

"Katniss," Gale lamented, sliding his hand down her face and to her collarbone. She stepped back and bowed her head.

"You ought not to be here, my lord. I shall see you in only two hours time." Katniss looked up at him through her eyelashes, then glanced at the bed, covered in the scarves she was meant to choose from.

"You might think to not be so formal with me. We are friends, are we not?" Gale asked, stepping closer. His hands went to grip her waist. Katniss pursed her lips and scowled at him. She set her hands gently on his wrists and pushed them away.

"Perhaps we are," she replied, "in which case you should mind your manners, and the princesses boundaries." She brushed herself off, and turned to pick a scarf. "Go now. I must finish getting ready if we really are meant to be engaged tonight." Gale stood looking at her for a time, backed out of the room, bowed, and left.

The ladies were waiting just beyond the door, and bowed their heads, stooping to curtsey when the door opened. Gale looked at them, and Madge looked up. He winked at her as a smile crept onto his face. "I'm sure the princess requires your assistance more within her chambers than without." He set off back down the hall, whistling gently, his hands clasped behind her back.

Katniss was fiddling the edge of a light blue voile scarf between her fingers when her ladies re-entered the room. "I should not pretend I am comfortable," she said quietly as Madge made to remove the scarf from her. She picked up a boars hair brush from the bed and began brushing it over Katniss' gown, removing any stray threads and flattening it. She picked up the long overskirt, a dark evergreen, and moved around Katniss' front.

"I'm unsure what you mean, my lady," Madge replied, stooping to wind the skirt and underskirt ties together before gathering a handful of straight pins off the bed. "Would you like a different room?"

Katniss picked up a silk scarf, a pale yellow embossed with blue flowers, and rubbed the material between her fingers while Madge continued to pin her skirt in place. She turned her attention to Catherine, who bowed her head at the severe look on Katniss' face. "Will you alert Her Majesty the queen of our readiness, then go see the other girls about changing you into something more appropriate?" She eyed Catherine over as she nodded and turned from the room. "Green will wash her of all color, unfortunately," Katniss remarked offhandedly. Madge stood stooped, brushing Katniss' skirt with the flat of her hands in a vain attempt to get it to fall straight. Katniss offered Madge the silk scarf, which Madge draped over Katniss' shoulders, tucking it down into the hard line of her kirtle. There was a long silence as Madge picked up Katniss' shirt and stepped behind her.

"My lady, please tell me if there is something I can do to or ask for to improve your comfort. I know how you dislike these embellished rooms," Madge said softly as Katniss slipped her arms into the shirt. It was a light green, matching the underskirt. She bit her lip.

"It is not the room," Katniss replied. "I am just eighteen. I do not want to be married." Her voice was tight, and she cleared her throat, blinking away tears that had just started to form. "But perhaps it is not my age. Hmm," she hummed as Madge began to work the eyes and hooks together on the front of her garment. "Perhaps it is the man. Why should I marry if not for love?" Katniss tugged at the edges of her sleeves, which fell just past the elbow, and looked at Madge, who pressed two hands gently into Katniss' shoulders and brushed any stray dirt, dust, or debris away.

"My lady will forgive me, I hope, but…" Madge adjusted Katniss' scarf, "perhaps your station does not permit you to love." Katniss smiled sadly at her lady's words. She reached up and placed one hand against her old friends cheek.

"I suppose you are correct, as always. What would I do without you?" Katniss asked, moving to the vanity to begin pinning up her hair.

"Struggling to dress - or worse still," Madge paused, watching Katniss with her head tilted to one side, "having Catherine attempt to dress you." They both laughed.

"You will have to get married in love for both of us, Madge," said Katniss, looking at her in the mirror. Madge's smile faded and she nodded courteously. "Go have the girls help you dress. There is not much time left to prepare oneself for the engagement of a princess." Madge wrinkled her nose and shook her head, then curtsied gently and left the room, pausing only to give Katniss one last, firm smile.

Madge was right, as she always was when Katniss confided in her. She pressed a hand to her forehead, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes again. It would not do her any good to cry now, so soon before a celebration in her honor, But she felt plagued by her apprehension. It stuck in her throat like the astringent smell of tannin. What she wouldn't give to be spending the next two weeks in her own bed, in her own home. Though Gale had been her friend all her life, she could not shake the feeling that the love between them was only that: friendly. Katniss shook herself off and went back to pinning up her hair. She was so ungrateful of her position as princess. How could she possibly make do as queen?


	2. Chapter 2: Simultaneous

_A/N: Once again i want to thank everyone for their support in my writing and also reiterate that I post everything to AO3 (archive of our own!). Go ahead and find me there - same username. You'll get more regular and consistent updates there. This will be the last story I ever post to fanfiction dot net. Please find me on AO3! _

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The castle in Bergenon was a long way from Peeta Mellark's home in the city of Seamme, which rested in the heart of Panem, just outside the bustling capitol that housed the nobility. Even as his carriage rounded the wide corner of this sheltered, tree-lined roadway, and trundled onto the pebbled entry, Peeta was struck at the unfamiliarity of it all. Though his name was spoken over much of Panem and his art was housed in some of the finest galleries, homes, and archives, he felt his portraits by no means a masterstroke - certainly not good enough for the woman who would one day become queen. Peeta's hands shook as he approached the Hawthorne estate. The castle was small - much smaller than Peeta had expected, and appeared more as a manor house than that of a lord. Still, its wide windows and two story build had a certain grandiosity that he couldn't deny. He wished he had never agreed to this; but then, how could you say no to the princesses fiance? A light breeze shook the leaves of the tall apple trees in the huge front garden as his carriage came to a halt. Peeta took a deep breath and exited the cart.

He had to stoop immediately into a low bow as the door shut behind him, surprise knocking the wind from him: His Lord Gale Hawthorne stood before him, just beside the cart, hands clasped behind his back. A chuckle exited the young man, and Peeta had to resist raising his eyes.

"Please stand," said the Hawthorne man lightly. He was handsome, Peeta noticed as he stood: a firm, chiseled jaw was set regally behind half-lidded eyes and a strong brow. "Thank you for attending us at such short notice. The queen's usual painter has fallen ill, I heard." Peeta nodded in response, a noncommittal action, and the lord swung an arm, indicating Peeta to follow; he fell in step just behind Hawthorne, hands grasped behind his back as the Lord's were.

"It is not a concern," replied Peeta after a moment. "It will be an honor to paint your lordship and Her Royal Highness.

Hawthorne glanced back, a smirk playing at his lips. "Were you not informed?" he asked, side-stepping in through the door to get a better look at Peeta's reaction. "You will only be painting the princess. It is tradition for all the women to have a portrait done before they are to be married," he paused. "Calms the nerves."

"It could take me the whole two weeks leading to your ceremony, my lord," Peeta remarked. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, which excellerated further at the idea of being alone with the future queen.

"Oh, we are all aware. I just hope it to be relaxing for Her Highness," replied the lord quietly. "The princess-" Hawthorne stopped himself and grimaced. "Well, in any case, you will start tomorrow; tonight, celebration." Both men smiled at each other, and Peeta looked around as they set off down the hall.

Bergenon castle was splendiferous in its decorations; vast tapestries adorned the wide, long corridors, while sweeping, multicolored carpets covered the cold, stone floors. Peeta's eyes scanned the portraits that graced the entryway, recognizing the style of a few. His heart thrummed nervously - if this was the standard of the portraits of past Lords of Bergenon, what of the queen? Lord Hawthorne led him up a long flight of stairs into another wide corridor with doors dotting every few paces.

"Your room," began the lord, walking a distance to open the first door on the left, "has the widest and tallest windows on this floor, and looks out into the garden. I assumed," he paused as he waited for Peeta to enter the and wide the windows were, spanning almost the length of the room with their breadth. Peeta took another deep breath in shock and pleasure. "I assumed," began Lord Hawthorne again, a smile on his face as Peeta turned to look at him, "you would need as much light as possible, to do the princess justice." He paused again.

Peeta nodded and glanced around the room again. "Thank you," Peeta said. "It will be more than enough, I am sure." The lord dipped his head in a shallow bow and cleared his throat.

"I'll have one of my valets inform you when the festivities are set to commence," Lord Hawthorne said, "it should not be long now. And the footmen should be along any moment with your bags." Peeta gave him a gracious smile, unsure what else to say. "And also, all canvas will be provided for you."

"Your Lordship's accommodations are a kindness," Peeta said. He felt stiff and tight and wrong. The lord nodded once more, then turned on his heel and, without so much as a goodbye, left. Peeta pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd arrived after the royal party - after all the trumpetting and the parade of women and people that he knew would have arrived en masse. Still, he felt a wide tiredness and moved around the room, looking at all the things. A few chairs and a long, lounging couch took up the near corner, where the most light streamed in from the widest set of windows. A bed was set behind a long, ornate screen; it was wide, but modestly made. He sat in one of the chairs and stared around the room, wondering how he would have the princess sit. Nervousness sat hot in his stomach, but he pushed it away and settled on the bed. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Peeta called. A footman entered, hefting along Peeta's painters gear and his small travelling trunk. He bowed to Peeta - still something he was unsure if he would ever be used to - and backed out of the room. Peeta felt that cloying sort of exhaustion behind his eyes, and squeezed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stay awake. He knew there wouldn't be time for rest, but leaned his head back against the pillows on his bed in any case, suddenly appreciative of the luxurious comfort beneath him. Even through his sleepy stupor, he can still imagine the princess, sitting in front of him, her dark hair obscuring her beautiful face like a curtain.

#

Peeta had seen the princess the year before in an off chance. He'd been delivering bread with his father to make up for the money lost doing paintings without notoriety. She'd been in the garden with her sister and their entorage, reading something aloud. As he looked around the corner, she had glanced up; their eyes had met, if only briefly before he had the thought to look away. He hadn't expected her to look so normal. She'd been smiling at her sister, and the smile carried to her soulful eyes, which looked pale blue from the far distance. When he dipped his head down, he realized: he'd never seen a woman so beautiful in his life.

#

Gale jumped at the knock on his door, and bristled. "Enter," he said stiffly, standing from his desk, where he wrote with shaking hands in a small journal. Archbishop Snow entered, his hands clutched behind his back.

"The queen has conceded to see you," said Snow sharply. "Given your insistence, I think it's best if I escort you to her chambers now." Gale looked around and then nodded, and followed the bishop down the hall and up a flight of stairs. "You have ten minutes," Snow said to him as he pushed the door to the queen's chamber open. Gale walked in, practically bowing before his body was fully across the threshold. The queen sat in a high back chair facing away from the windows, and looked down at him with annoyance in her features.

"Stand," she said brusquely.

Gale stood in front of the queen, head bowed. Emily cleared her throat and he lifted his head.

"You seek council, Lord Hawthorne, so be it," the queen waited for him to speak. He eyed the women to her left and right, and cleared his throat.

"I wish to marry the princess this evening," Gale said. His voice was stiff and stern, and the queen looked surprised at the demand.

"No," she replied coolly, "that was not the arrangement made."

"The arrangement," Gale interjected, trying to keep the ice from his voice, "was that Katniss wait to marry until she is eighteen. She is eighteen tonight - I do not see why we cannot be married now."

"Because," the queen answered, "that is not her wish."

"And what of my wishes, your majesty?"

"What of them?" the queen shot back. Gale could tell she was beginning to lose her temper with him.

"Do I not have some say in my affairs?" Gale asked. "Some pull? Leeway? I am marrying the future queen of Panem, your majesty."

"Marrying my daughter does not make you prince, just as her coronation will not make you king. That is never how this has worked."

"Well, what does that make me then?"

"Her husband," the queen said. She seemed amused by his misunderstanding. Gale bit the inside of his lip. "Just as my husband before you, and my mother's before mine. If you wish to end a fourteen year engagement, Lord Hawthorne, be my guest," the queen paused, then stood and moved towards him. Her grey dress, high-collared and austere, lengthened her, making him feel small beneath her gaze. "But remember that the position as Earl of Bergenon is in part a favor, from my husband to your father." The queens expression turned simpering. "You do not understand what it is, to fight for the respect of those beneath you."

"My queen," Gale backtracked, "I did not mean to cause you to think-"

"It doesn't matter what I think." The queen turned her back on him, heading back to her throne-like chair. "It is, as you say, the princess you're marrying. Have you considered asking her for the advancement of the date?"

"I thought I could expedite the process if I came to you first," Gale said cooly.

"You were wrong," the queen replied as she sat. "If that is quite all?"

"One final question, your highness," Gale said. The queen inclined her head, indicating for him to speak. "What you mean by me being only the husband to Katniss," he paused, trying to select his words carefully, "I advance none in station or rank?"

The queen frowned, then smirked at him. "Do you know nothing of the monarchy, my lord?" Gale's face remained impassive as stone, waiting for her to reply. "You are not the sovereign of our nation, but that does not make you disposable." She laughed. "On the contrary, Lord Hawthorne, King Consort is a valuable title which I'm sure many a man would trade an arm, leg, or mind for."

Gale considered her words for a moment before speaking. "Your majesty has been most gracious to allow me audience," he says with a bow. He continues to chew his lip as he backs out of the room, turning only to push open the door. There is anger in his face, but he swallows it down. It would not do to lose his temper, on tonight of all nights.

#

Katniss sat in front of her mother, allowing Emily's nimble fingers to form a crown of braids in Katniss' long, dark hair. She hummed a soft tune while she does so, and then pushed a pin through the tail end, holding it in place. Emily tapped Katniss' shoulder, indicating she could rise, but the princess stayed in her position at her mother's feet, mind rolling over and over in contemplation. Emily sighed and set a hand gently on her daughter's shoulder.

"What is it, my love?" she asked Katniss, voice low and sweet. Katniss shook her head and glanced at her mother. The older woman's face reflected more of Prim back than Katniss, of which she was grateful: the reminder of her sister always lessened Katniss' anger towards her mother, no matter how strong or unquenchable it seemed to be. Katniss shook her head.

"I was thinking," she said slowly, "what if we had the wedding at home?"

"What if we did?" said her mother slyly, a smile curling the edges of her mouth. "Do you want to?" Katniss shrugged.

"I was thinking, maybe it would comfort me to be at home, in the castle, and not have to travel again until our trip in the fall." Katniss squinted at the corner of the room, looking at nothing but trying not to hold her breath. Hope, she knew, was a foolish endeavor.

"Then we shall hold the wedding at home." The queen squeezed Katniss' shoulder tightly, bony fingers digging into the soft flesh below her collarbone. "You can announce it this evening." Katniss stood and her mother smiled at her, then held out her arms for a hug - rare, but in this moment, well appreciated by Katniss.

"I love you, mama," Katniss whispered into her mother's ear. Emily's hand came up to stroke the back of Katniss head, and she released her, bestowing a smile on her.

"And I, you, Katniss." Her mother patted her hands. "Go, fetch your sister and we can all walk to the ballroom together." Katniss curtsied low and left, a spring in her step that hadn't been there when she'd entered.

#

Some short time after his arrival, a valet entered after a short, sharp rap. He was short and a little stocky, with beetle-like eyes hidden behind thin-framed spectacles. He bowed his head and then spoke to Peeta in a high, whispery voice. Peeta stared up at the canopy over his four-poster,

"Your sir should consider readying himself for the celebration tonight." The man stared at Peeta as he continued to lay on the bed, studying the fabric above him. "It shall commence post-haste," the man continued, seeming agitated by Peeta's apparent apathy.

Peeta cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said pointedly. The valet left with a small huff. Peeta stood; now was as good a time as any to meet the woman he would someday call "Queen".

#

The ballroom was full of people, all far above his station. He couldn't reconcile the idea of his presence with theirs, let alone the fact that he stood by the wall, a silver goblet in his hand, watching a dance he knew none of the steps to. He should have prepared better; even with one weeks notice, he was not necessarily poor, and had been invited on occasion to festivities that would have taught him some steps to the outrageous choreography set before him. Instead he had moaned to those in his close circle of friends about the idea of being trapped in a castle, dealing with royalty and nobility, while they at home had the luxury of the common folk. He should be more grateful, he knew, for the opportunity to paint the princess was as nothing he'd yet done compared. The only thing better would be to paint the pope. Peeta cast away the thought, but still couldn't bring himself to look up at the dias upon which the princess and her small group of courtiers were stationed. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he jumped.

"Haymitch!" he said, accepting a hug from the haggard looking man. He smiled kindly at Peeta.

"Peeta," he replied.

"What are you doing here?" asked Peeta, incredulous. "I was unaware an old drunk was allowed in the courts." Haymitch shook his head and laughed.

"The princess may know me better as uncle," he replied, a smirk lifting at the surprised expression. Peeta's smile fell from his face and he took a long sip of wine, eyes wide. "But you shouldn't look so shocked, Peeta. Godfather is a common title." Peeta rubbed his chin and laughed nervously.

"My lord," he started, but Haymitch raised a hand to cut him off.

"None of that now," Haymitch laughed. "This Earl of Coalsten prefers the quiet life in Seamme by far over those you see in this castle." He nudged Peeta with his elbow. "I couldn't miss my goddaughter's engagement, however." His tone was bitter. Haymitch gestured to those standing on the platform with Katniss. "She is beautiful," he said, almost disappointed. Peeta chanced a glance; as he remembered, Katniss' dark hair shone from the torches set around the room, almost mahogany in its coloring, and laced together in an intricate crown on her head. Her face, though currently bored and expressionless, was softly defined, though her olive tone and straight, sharp nose gave her a surveying quality, as though silently judging. As he watched, she leaned her head to one side, listening to something another girl was saying, and a smile cut across the strictly tamed features, wild and uninhibited.

"That she is, my lord," Peeta conceded with a short laugh. Haymitch chuckles.

"Too bad she's marrying that Hawthorne boy," Haymitch glanced at Peeta, who shook his head.

"You really are something," Peeta said, then smirked and continued to watch the dancers with an amused air.

#

Katniss scanned the room disinterestedly, feeling bored. She'd yet to dance - not that she was particularly any good - and felt underwhelmed by everything around her. Madge's words from earlier still tickled the back of her mind: perhaps princesses do not marry for love, but for honor, loyalty, and sacrifice. The thought depressed her deeply, but she dismissed it, carrying her eyes across the ballroom floor to the walls, where several single men stood waiting for the dance to end. Her eyes fell on her uncle - godfather - and a face that was at once familiar and foreign. She cleared her throat.

"Madge," she whispered. Madge stepped to her side at once, her pale green dress rustling. She tipped her head towards Katniss, listening for a question. "You see that man besides my uncle?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Madge, glancing in that direction.

"Who is that?" Katniss searched his face once more, trying to remember where she could have seen him before.

"That's Peeta Mellark, my lady," Madge whispered. "He's to paint your portrait by these two weeks end." Katniss shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Do you recognize him?"

"I do, but I can't seem to place where." Katniss chewed the inside of her lip, then glanced to Gale, who was flirting unabashedly with Catherine. She raised one eyebrow and let out a short huff. "Remind me to put Catherine in with my mother's ladies tonight," Katniss commented off-handedly. Madge glanced over at Gale and Catherine and shook her head.

"Yes, my lady," she said with a slight bow of her head. Madge curtsied and moved away again. Katniss continued to watch Gale with apprehension until her sister moved to stand beside her.

"Katniss," said Prim under her breath, "I would like to join the dancers, would you?" Katniss held back a grin and nodded.

"Perhaps we should ask our Uncle to dance," Katniss said lightly. Prim nodded and gripped her sisters wrist as they descended from the dias. They walked together to where Haymitch spoke animatedly with the Mellark man, and Prim curtsied gracefully in front of him while Katniss merely inclined her head. "Uncle," she said, biting back laughter. Haymitch eyed her suspiciously.

"We were wondering if you would do us the honor of a dance," Prim said, straining to keep herself from bursting with glee.

"Of course, girls," Haymitch said, then frowned theatrically. "But there's only one of me, and there are two of you." Katniss watched Haymitch glance at Peeta, who was staring off into the distance. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, clutching Peeta's arm. She knew when her uncle was playing games with them, but liked it all the same; he feigned embarrassment for Peeta's neglect and waved a hand towards Prim. "This is the Lady Primrose, of Treize, and Her Royal Highness, the Princess." Prim curtsied as Peeta bowed, but Katniss forgot herself as his eyes met hers: they were startlingly blue. The glance they shared seemed longer than what was appropriate, and she felt her heart skip in her chest. She watched him lean into a low bow. Haymitch cleared his throat, and Katniss gave a small, sudden curtisy in an attempt to hide her blunder. "Girls, this is Peeta Mellark. He lives in Seamme and is an excellent artist." Katniss watched Haymitch pretend to think. "Peeta, would you like to join us for a dance?"

Peeta's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Oh, no, Haymitch, I couldn't-"

"You can," he said, tugging Peeta's arm as he resisted, "and you will." Peeta stepped forward and whispered into Haymitch's ear quickly. "Well, then you will have to dance with the princess. She knows all the steps." Haymitch moved Peeta so he stood in front of Katniss, eyes wide and lips a thin, firm line. Her uncle chuckled as he took Prim's hand and escorted her onto the dance floor.

"You majesty," said Peeta in an undertone. Katniss scratched behind her ear and looked awkwardly around. "I cannot dance."

"No matter," Katniss said. She extended a hand; Peeta noticed it bore a signet ring of glittering emerald. He placed his goblet on the table beside him and, trembling, took it. "My uncle is correct, I know the steps to all the dances in the court." She glanced at him as she lead him onto the dance floor. There were a few hushed whispers, but it was not unconventional or, she thought, incredibly inappropriate, for Katniss to dance with another courtier at her own birthday. She looked up at the dias, where Gale still sat. He seemed stiffer now, less at ease, though he still bantered dismissively with another of her ladies. Katniss held herself a little taller as the reached the dance floor.

Peeta was right - he could not dance. He seemed to be all feet and no grace. But his awkward stumbling made Katniss laugh, deep and throaty, and as they danced with each other, she watched him. He was a handsome man, with almost delicate features but a strong, powerful build, different than other painters she'd met and sat with. He glanced at their feet often, and when he did, she noticed his long eyelashes and the fullness of his mouth. Every time she laughed, his lips twitched up at the corners; despite the knowledge that he came close to stepping on her feet many times, she felt - for the first time since arriving - a deep sense of calm contentment. _It will be nice, _she thought to herself, _to spend time with this man while he paints._ When the music ended, they stepped apart, and a large, gentle hand came to grip her waist. She looked up at Gale.

"It's time," he said. "Thank you for entertaining the princess." His tone to Peeta was polite, but cool, and she glanced apologetically at the painter.

"Of course," Peeta said. His eyes met Katniss' and she felt that same flipping of her stomach and heart. "I will send for you in the morning, your majesty," he murmured with a shallow bow. Katniss inclined her head.

"It will be a pleasure, I am sure," she replied. Her heart heavy, she turned and allowed Gale to escort her back to the dias. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her; as she looked up at Gale, his grey eyes and dark hair shining in the light from the torches hung all around the room, she felt despair at the idea of being married. Time was moving so slowly as she contemplated her life and the design of it. Would she forever bear the brunt of things she did not want to do? When her father died and her mother was lost to the whims of drink, she took the high road and cared for her sister. When Gale told her they were to be married when she was eighteen, she relented and agreed. When her mother insisted she have her portrait done as a final remembrance of her unwedded life, she consented. But Katniss couldn't remember the last time she'd done anything that was for her.

"My friends and my honored guests," Gale said loudly, his voice vibrating throughout the room, "we are honored to have you here tonight as our witnesses. I would first like to wish the princess a very happy eighteenth birthday." Katniss inclined her head as polite applause swept through the room. "As you all know, Katniss and I have been betrothed for a long while," Gale continued. "Tonight, I would like to announce our engagement. In two weeks time, the country shall witness the marriage of Her Royal Highness, Katniss Everdeen." Cheers and loud applause echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. A small smile pushed its way onto Katniss' face. Gale gestured for her to step forward and speak.

"We shall be holding court here until that time," she said, waiting for the crowds excitement to wane. "But the wedding shall take place in Capitál," her voice quivered with nervous excitement as Gale looked at her, surprised, "a decision made most recently between myself and Her Majesty, the queen." Emily inclined her head as more cheers erupted. Katniss glanced around the room and found her uncle's stern gaze. He nodded softly and leaned to speak in an undertone to Peeta. She glanced again at the painter, and felt a thread of longing pulling in her chest and stomach. Two weeks would be a long time.


End file.
